Stand Off, or I Knew I Should've Stayed Home Today
by Tweeter
Summary: COMPLETE! Tony gets caught in a bank robbery. Yes, this is a cliche, but cliches can be fun sometimes. Final chapter posted! Please read and review. Edited to close gaping plot hole.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: _NCIS is owned by Paramount, Bellisarius Productions, CBS and just about anybody else but me. No copyright infringement is intended. This little piece of fiction is written for entertainment purposes only, no money is being made. 

_Warning:_ There's foul language an violence in this story. I'll be rating this PG-13, or so.

I hope you enjoy this story. Please read and review. Many thanks go to my ever-patient beta Rinne.

**Chapter One**

McGee slammed the phone down and hurried to the plasma screen, pulling up a live broadcast from the local news station.

"Boss, Abby heard a call come in over the police scanner about a bank robbery taking place right now."

Gibbs stood and looked at the screen. "And this concerns us... how?"

"It's Tony's bank..."

Ziva spoke up, "Didn't Tony say something about getting a money order when he was leaving for lunch?"

McGee nodded. "Yeah, he did. I just tried to call him on his cell, but it went straight into voicemail."

"What does that mean?" asked Gibbs.

"It means his phone isn't turned on, the battery's dead or it's broken."

Gibbs pulled his gun out of his drawer and snapped a fresh clip into it. "Come on," he called, striding purposefully out of the squad room. "We're going to the scene. Keep trying DiNozzo on his cell, if he's goofing around and turned it off I'm going to kill him."

Grabbing their gear, McGee and Ziva hurried to catch up, barely making it on to the elevator before the doors closed.

Credits 

He hated waiting in line. If there's one thing he hated, it was waiting in...well, there were worse things. He could be waiting in line with Gibbs. Yeah, that would be worse. Would Gibbs even wait in a line? Probably not. Oh, look...hmmm, very nice...dark hair, large blue eyes, full lips, but not Angelina Jolie puffy. Now there's a beautiful woman, but those lips are a bit much. Still, wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers. Crackers...haven't had lunch yet. Probably have to pick up a burrito on the way back to the office. Damn, this line is slow. Why would they only have two tellers working at the height of lunch hour? A lot of people do their banking on their lunch hour.

Tony shifted uncomfortably, then smiled at the petite woman in the line behind him.

"Kinda slow," he said, looking pointedly at the tellers.

"Mmm, hmmm," was the vague reply.

"You'd think they'd have more people working, wouldn't you?" Tony gave her his most ingratiating smile.

"You'd think." She wasn't buying it. This one was going to be a challenge. He cocked his head and gave her a cheesy grin. "So, you come here often?"

Blinking, the woman looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "No," she muttered. "Just stopping by to get a money order."

Tony nodded. "Me, too," he confided. "Spending my lunch hour in a line is not my idea of a good time." He paused. "So, what do you do?"

"Do?" She was definitely not into this conversation. Gotta impress her, or something.

"Yes. For a living. You know, work? I'm a Federal Agent." Ahhh, that got her attention.

"What Agency?"

"NCIS – that's Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

"Don't know that one." She turned and started leafing through a magazine she was carrying.

"Kinda like the FBI, we work with them you know, but we handle cases involving the Navy and Marines." Tony leaned down. "Don't worry, you're safe with me, I'm armed." He patted his jacket covering his gun and smiled.

"Mmmm, glad to hear it." She continued reading.

Ouch. Crashed and burned. Oh well, he wasn't at his best on an empty stomach. Tony looked around idly, moving forward as the line grew shorter. This sucked.

There was a commotion over in the corner, Tony turned to see what it was. A man was waving a gun in the manager's face. Eyes narrowing, Tony started to reach into his jacket when he felt the unmistakable poke of a gun in his side.

"I don't think so, hot shot." He turned his head slowly to see the woman who gave him the brush-off holding a gun on him.

"Grandma, what a big gun you've got there." Smiling, he started to turn his body, stopping when the gun was jammed into his side harder.

"Very funny," she snarled. "I want you to reach in with your thumb and forefinger, and very carefully pull your gun out by the handle."

By this time three other men had pulled out automatic weapons from bags and were yelling for the customers to get down on the floor. One of the men leaped over the counter and ordered the tellers to back away from the alarm buttons. One young teller had already started reaching for the alarm, punching it as he backed up. The earsplitting sounds of sirens resounded through the bank, causing a panic. The gunman panicked, firing a few rounds at the teller, killing him instantly. Pandemonium erupted, the screaming and crying customers made the gunmen even more edgy. Standing on a desk, the leader of the group started yelling for quiet.

Tony was about to make a move amid the chaos when he heard a loud explosion and felt his side and stomach catch fire. Eyes wide with shock, he looked down to see a red patch blooming on his shirt through a blackened hole. His knees buckled and he landed on them, looking up at the woman who had just blown a hole through him.

"Shit," was all he was able to say, before he fell to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

The black sedan pulled up to the assembled police cars with a screech of brakes. Gibbs got out of the car and strode over to what appeared to be the command center.

"Who's in charge here?" he barked.

"Who's asking?"

Flashing his badge to the burly officer, he said, "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS."

An older man in shirtsleeves and bullet-proof vest approached them. "NCIS? This is a local matter, no sailors involved, that we know of."

Gibbs turned to the man. "I have reason to believe one of my agents may be in there. I need to speak to the officer in charge."

The man scowled. "I'm in charge here. Captain William Harding, Metro PD. What's your agent doing in there?"

"In the wrong place at the wrong time," replied Gibbs. "He was running a personal errand on his lunch. We're not even sure he's in there, but we can't reach him on his cell."

"Boss," McGee ran up, out of breath. "Tony's car is in the parking lot. He's around here somewhere. No answer on his phone yet."

"Damn it!"

Harding held up a hand. "Wait a minute, you think he might still be in the bank?"

"Yeah. DiNozzo seems to get into more than his share of trouble."

"Well, maybe it's a good thing. Is he armed?"

Gibbs looked sharply at the detective. "He is. He's one of my best agents. He's probably assessing the situation, waiting for a chance to make a move."

Harding nodded thoughtfully. "We're establishing communications with the bank robbers. Some shots were fired, we don't know if anyone was killed or wounded."

"How will you find out?" asked Ziva. "Maybe Tony was already in a firefight, he could be hurt, or worse."

"We know that at least some shots were from an automatic weapon," replied the detective. "We think they panicked when the alarm was set off. We're trying to patch into the security camera network, see if we can get a look at the situation."

Surprised, Gibbs asked, "They didn't disable the cameras?"

"They shot the primary cameras," Harding nodded, "but corporate headquarters had some hidden surveillance cameras installed about a month ago. They've had problems at this branch and they wanted to see exactly what was happening without any of the employees knowing they were being watched. The branch manager doesn't even know about the secondary system."

Gibbs turned to him. "Is there any way we can help with that? I've got the best electronics tech in the country. We could get a survey of the layout and the position of the perps."

"Yeah, sure," Harding agreed. "I'm not one of those guys who's big on jurisdiction. I'll take all the help I can get."

"McGee, get Abby and bring all the equipment she'll need out here."

"Right away, Boss."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: _NCIS is owned by Paramount, Bellisarius Productions, CBS and just about anybody else but me. No copyright infringement is intended. This little piece of fiction is written for entertainment purposes only, no money is being made. 

_Warning:_ There's foul language and violence in this story. I'll be rating this PG-13, or so.

I hope you enjoy this story. Please read and review. Many thanks go to my ever-patient beta Rinne.

**Chapter Two**

The first thing Tony noticed as he drifted back to awareness was the fire in his stomach. Funny, he hadn't remembered having time to stop for burritos. He really had to stop eating those, as much as he hated to admit it, his stomach couldn't handle them like they used to. Shifting slightly he realized his hands were behind his back, and they were cuffed. How the hell did that happen?

Opening his eyes he saw he was lying on the floor of the bank, his hands and legs restrained, and some guy was pacing up and down, waving an automatic rifle and swearing at his companions.

"We are so fucked! I can't believe we're so fucked!" Ryan Soldero was furious. Reeling around, he pointed accusingly at the guy behind the counter. "You were supposed to stop them from hitting the alarm. What the hell happened?"

Joey Michaels yelled back, "The kid was too fast, he hit the button before I had a chance to clear the counter."

Facing the female member of their group, Soldero continued yelling, "And you, you shot a cop? A COP? You know what happens when you shoot a cop? Every single cop in the country keeps an eye out for you. We're dead!"

"What was I supposed to do?" argued Angela Harper. "He was reaching for his gun. He's not dead, we can use him for leverage. And he's not a cop, he's some sort of agent"

Soldero's voice went up an octave. "You shot a Fed? Are you crazy?" He continued pacing, waving his weapon and running his free hand through his hair. "We're so totally fucked."

A voice boomed through a megaphone from outside the building. "This is the Metro Police Department. You're completely surrounded. Come out of the building with your hands up."

"Ryan?" The fourth member of the group was a wiry blonde, not more than eighteen years old. He was unable to stay still, his movements jerky as he bounced on his heels. Wiping his nose nervously on his sleeve, he looked to his leader for instructions.

"Shut up Petey," muttered Ryan. "Just shut up. Frank, make sure the hostages keep their heads down." He moved closer to the window and yelled back. "We got hostages in here. And a wounded Fed. You don't give us what we want, we start throwing dead bodies out the door."

Gibbs swore when he heard about the wounded agent. It had to be DiNozzo, it would be too much of a coincidence for there to be another Federal Agent in there, and Gibbs didn't believe in coincidences.

Detective Harding shook his head, looking over at Gibbs. "I don't like this. This guy sounds like a frightened kid."

Gibbs nodded grimly. "A frightened kid with automatic weapons and hostages."

Putting the megaphone back to his mouth, Harding yelled back at the bank robbers. "I'm going to call you through the bank's number. Pick up, and we can talk about this, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

McGee had returned with Abby and a truckload of electronic equipment. They were led over to where the Police Department had patched into the security camera system. Working quickly and efficiently, the monitors were soon filled with different views of the interior of the bank. 

Gibbs and Harding strode up to the command center to survey the position of the bank robbers and the hostages. The pictures were a bit grainy, but it was easy to make out the people. One robber was behind the counters, the tellers lying on the floor. One teller wasn't with the group, and it looked like there was blood on the front of his uniform. In the main area of the bank a group of customers were huddled on the floor, covered by two men with automatic weapons. A fourth man, armed with an automatic weapon, was pacing back and forth, while an apparently unarmed woman was talking to him

Scanning the other monitors, Gibbs caught sight of his fallen agent. Tony was lying on his back, his arms behind him, his legs apparently tied together. The front of his white shirt was dark with blood. Gibbs heard Abby gasp, indicating she had spotted her friend as well.

"Oh god, Gibbs. It's Tony," she whispered hoarsely. "He looks dead." Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her pale cheeks.

"He's tied up, Abs," replied Gibbs. "They wouldn't tie up a dead man." He hoped he was right. He couldn't be sure about anything this group would do. They appeared to be amateurs- heavily armed, frightened amateurs.

Detective Harding picked up a phone and dialed a number.

Negotiations were starting.

* * *

McGee and Ziva approached Gibbs, anxious to do something to help their injured teammate. 

"Gibbs." Ziva looked serious. "Why don't I find a way into the building, get a person on the inside with a gun, then the police can send in their smack team."

McGee looked at Ziva. "That's SWAT team."

"Tony could be dying," growled Ziva. "Now is not the time to correct my American slang."

"It's not slang, it's the acronym for Special Weapons and…"

"McGee," barked Gibbs.

"Sorry, Boss."

"We can't do that, Officer David." Gibbs looked toward the bank thoughtfully. "There are too many innocent people in there that could get caught in the crossfire. We can't risk it."

"But Gibbs…" Gibbs cut off her argument with a glare.

"We can't risk the civilians."

Abby, who had been standing by quietly, spoke up, "What about Tony, Gibbs? He's lying there, alone, bleeding and probably in a lot of pain. We have to get him out of there. We can't just let him die."

Gibbs put his arms around her. "Tony's not going to die, Abs. We'll get him, I promise."

"How?" Ziva looked skeptical.

"We'll get him."


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: _NCIS is owned by Paramount, Bellisarius Productions, CBS and just about anybody else but me. No copyright infringement is intended. This little piece of fiction is written for entertainment purposes only, no money is being made. 

_Warning:_ There's foul language and violence in this story. I'll be rating this PG-13, or so.

I hope you enjoy this story. Please read and review. Many thanks go to my ever-patient beta Rinne.

**Chapter Three**

Petey jumped at the sound of the phone ringing.

Soldero picked it up and barked, "Yeah."

"This is Captain William Harding, who's this?"

Soldero snorted. "It doesn't matter. We want a van with a full tank of gas; a clear route to the airport; a private plane with a full tank of gas; and two million dollars."

"That's a big order, son," Harding drawled. "It'll take some time to get all that together."

"You got 2 hours."

"Now listen, son, you gotta give me something in return, you know, a show of good faith."

Ryan looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Harding looked over at Gibbs as he spoke, "I hear there were shots fired. This injured Fed you have, send him out so he can get medical help."

Snorting, Ryan yelled into the phone, "No way, man. He's our insurance. He's coming with us until we know we're safe."

"I'm afraid that's not an option, son…"

"Stop calling me son!"

"Okay," soothed the detective. "What do you want me to call you?"

Thinking, Ryan looked at Angela with a grin. "Butch, Butch Cassidy."

Harding laughed. "Okay, Butch. How about we compromise? You let us send some EMT's in there, check out the Fed and anyone else that needs help while we're pulling together the money and vehicles. That okay with you?"

Thinking for a second, Ryan nodded. "Okay," he said, "but no tricks. You got that? I'll kill a hostage, I got nothing to lose."

"Stay calm, Butch, no one needs to die. We'll send someone in."

* * *

Detective Harding broke the connection. "Okay, we're going to send in the EMT's." 

Gibbs said, "What if we send in my people dressed as EMT's?"

The older detective looked at Gibbs in surprise. "They won't be able to carry weapons, they'll be searched."

"They're not professionals, we can conceal weapons somehow," scoffed Gibbs.

"But what about your guy? He's going to need real medical help."

Ziva spoke up, "I have some basic medical knowledge, enough to help stop the flow of blood and hopefully stabilize Tony's condition until we can get the real medical people in there. I can even insert an IV."

"Is there anything you can't do?" muttered Abby under her breath.

"I can't analyze blood, or process evidence that isn't weapons-related," replied Ziva. "I can't work a computer, or slam-dance."

Looking embarrassed, Abby lowered her eyes. "Anybody can slam-dance, there's nothing to it," she murmured. She looked up at Ziva and smiled apologetically. "I can take you to a club, if you're interested."

Ziva smiled. "We can drag Tony and McGee with us, after Tony's recovered well enough, of course."

"Enough," interrupted Gibbs. "We have to get Tony out of there before you can discuss killing him at some punk club. McGee, Ziva, go get into EMT gear. Abby, go back and monitor those security cameras. Keep an eye on the bank robbers, and watch Tony, see if he moves."

* * *

Tony rolled over onto his side to take the pressure off his hands. The small movement sent shockwaves of pain through his entire torso. Taking small breaths, he waited until the fireworks behind his eyes died down. Looking around he spotted one of the robbers. 

"Hey," he rasped. Raising his voice a bit more he tried again, "HEY!"

Frank Balducci jumped at the sound, whirled around and pointed his weapon in Tony's direction.

"Whoa," Tony said quickly. "Don't shoot, I'm not armed, and I'm tied up, anyway."

Shaking his head to clear it, the nervous youth looked down at Tony. "What do you want?"

Clearing his throat, Tony tried to make his voice calm and soothing. "Look, kid. I can tell you guys hadn't counted on something like this. Why don't you just give up, before something really serious happens and someone gets killed?"

Laughing humorlessly, Frank shook his head. "Too late, Joey killed one of the tellers. They got us for murder now."

Closing his eyes briefly, Tony took a short breath. "You didn't kill him. Right now, all you're guilty of is attempted robbery, possession of a deadly weapon, holding hostages…those sound bad, and they are serious, but they're not murder."

The effort of trying to speak was having an effect on the injured agent. He had broken out into a sweat and was starting to feel light-headed. He had to keep it together, to convince at least one of the bank robbers that they should give themselves up.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Frank."

"Okay, Frank. Listen to me, please. Talk to your friends. Tell them this has gone bad, that you're making a mistake. The police aren't going to just let you walk out of here, and if you kill any more people, you may not make it out of here alive." Tony dropped his head back to the floor, unable to lift it any longer.

Uncertain, Frank turned and looked at his other companions, all wallowing in their own private misery. The cop was right. This was really bad and no one seemed to know what to do to get out of it. Ryan looked like he was about to implode, and if Petey he didn't get another fix soon, he'd start climbing the walls.

He looked back over at Tony, but the man had lost consciousness and was lying there, breath hitching unevenly, looking like he was about to croak.

"The medical guys are here," yelled Ryan. "Joey, Frank, cover them so I can check their equipment."

Angela opened the front door and let the two EMT's through the door while the other two gunmen pointed their weapons at them. Ryan took their cases and opened them, rummaging through the various medical supplies. He then went up and patted the two down.

"Okay," he said. "Over there." He pointed the two techs over to where Tony lay.

The two medics walked quickly over to the injured agent and knelt next to him, checking his pulse and breathing.

"Is it necessary to keep him tied up like this?" asked McGee. "He's in pretty bad shape, he's no threat to you."

"I've seen what the Feds can do on TV," eeplied Soldero. "He can probably still kick our butts."

"That's television," murmured Ziva, "not real life. This man has lost too much blood to stand, much less fight." She carefully pulled Tony's shirt away from his bullet wound, noting the powder burns on the fabric. Gently, she turned him over and found a bigger exit wound. "We need to get him to a hospital right away." She pulled some heavy bandaging to place against the exit wound, taping it in place securely. She repeated the procedure on the wound on Tony's side.

"Can we please get these cuffs off?" she asked.

Rummaging around in Tony's pockets, McGee pulled out the keys to the handcuffs. He held them up and looked questioningly at Ryan. After thinking a moment, Ryan nodded and McGee unlocked the cuffs, freeing Tony's hands. Gently, he and Ziva eased Tony onto his back, placing a rolled up towel under his head.

Ziva placed an oxygen mask over Tony's nose and mouth and started the flow of oxygen. Soon his eyelids began to flutter and he moaned softly. Blinking to help focus, Tony saw a familiar face.

"You're going to be all right, Agent DiNozzo," Ziva's voice was calming. "We're going to take care of you until we can get you to a hospital."

Tony blinked some more, his eyes going from Ziva's face to McGee's, both looking very intense and concerned. He nodded softly and closed his eyes again.

"How'd you know his name?" Joey looked at the two EMT's suspiciously.

Ziva ignored him, motioning to McGee to continue working on the injured agent. She stood and looked at Ryan. "If you're not going to let us take him to the hospital, we need to move him out of this drafty area, and out of that pool of blood," she said, approaching the young man cautiously.

"Okay," agreed Ryan.

"I asked you a question, bitch," yelled Joey.

Ziva whirled on him, her eyes narrowed. "What did you call me?"

"Joey!" yelled Ryan. "Shut up!"

"She knew the Fed's name," Joey's voice rising in pitch and volume. "How did she know his name?"

"The cops probably know the names of everyone in here!" screamed Angela. "They probably know our names too! We're gonna go to prison!"

"I'm not going to prison." Joey was hysterical now, he began waving his gun around wildly. Petey started howling in fear, his weapon discharging accidentally, shattering some windows.

Ziva made her move.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: _NCIS is owned by Paramount, Bellisarius Productions, CBS and just about anybody else but me. No copyright infringement is intended. This little piece of fiction is written for entertainment purposes only, no money is being made.

_Warning:_ There's foul language and violence in this story. I'll be rating this PG-13, or so.

I hope you enjoy this story. Please read and review. Many thanks go to my ever-patient beta Rinne.

**Edited** to close the gaping plot hole pointed out by TheNaggingCube (thank you!).

**Chapter Four**

"What the hell?" Detective Harding swore at the sound of gunfire coming from the bank. He and Gibbs ran over to the monitors to see what was happening.

"The bank robbers are falling apart, they're shooting at everything!" yelled Abby.

Harding motioned to the leader of the SWAT team.

"MOVE IN," came the command, as the black-clad officers swarmed past the barriers and into the bank.

Gibbs and Harding pulled out their weapons and followed the SWAT team. The gunfire ceased quickly, the sounds of customers crying filtering through the air.

Gibbs ran over to McGee, who had been kneeling over Tony, protecting him from the flying bullets and debris. Ziva was kneeling on Ryan Soldero, pinning his arm behind his back. Joey Michaels was lying dead on the floor. Petey, Angela and Frank had been subdued by the cops, crying and whimpering.

Gibbs knelt down. "How is he?" he asked McGee.

"It's bad, Boss," McGee's voice was grim. "He's lost an awful lot of blood."

Gibbs looked down at his senior field agent. Tony's face was pale, a sheen of perspiration covering the waxy skin. His breathing was shallow, hitching unevenly with each inhale.

"Tony," Gibbs' voice was gentle. "Tony. Can you hear me?" There was no response. "DiNozzo!" Still nothing.

The real EMT's rushed in and pushed the two agents aside as they began to monitor Tony's condition, readjusting the oxygen mask and inserting an IV. They carefully placed him on a stretcher and rushed him out to a waiting ambulance.

Detective Harding came up to Gibbs. "Go on, go to the hospital," he said. "I'll clean up here, but I expect your help with the paperwork."

Smiling gratefully, Gibbs shook the detective's hand. "You can count on my help. McGee, Ziva, get Abby and bring the car around."

* * *

Six hours of surgery and 5 pints of blood later, Gibbs, Ziva, McGee and Abby were sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs in a hospital room, watching their teammate sleep. Abby had her chair up against the bed, her head resting on the mattress. It had been close, Tony had nearly died, but the young man was strong and stubborn. He'd made it through surgery and was now looking at a few weeks of recovery.

Gibbs watched Tony's chest rise and fall slowly. The bullet had passed through his side and cut a horizontal path through his torso. It was a miracle that it hadn't hit any major blood vessels or organs, although it did nick the liver, causing a majority of the blood loss. Gibbs shook his head, ruefully. DiNozzo had a propensity for finding trouble, and getting hurt. It wasn't even due to reckless behavior, there was no explaining it. He was going to make Gibbs get even grayer. Still, there was no one else that he would trust to cover his back, not even Ziva. She was good, no doubt about it, and he trusted her, but Tony seemed to know what Gibbs was thinking, what he needed. He was a perfect second. Gibbs hoped that, someday, Tony would take his place after he retired. He hoped when that happened, Tony would have someone he could trust as much as Gibbs trusted Tony.

Tony stirred slightly, waking Abby up immediately. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Tony's eyes opened, slowly, blinking to clear them of the cloudy membrane.

"Hey, Tony." Abby held his hand. "Welcome back."

Gibbs, McGee and Ziva stood and moved to the bedside. Tony's eyes swept over them, still blinking, barely focused.

"Hey," his voice was raspy.

Abby picked up a cup of water from the nightstand and placed the straw in Tony's mouth. He took a few sips gratefully.

Gibbs, waiting for a minute, stood back quietly while McGee, Ziva and Abby teased Tony about doing all his business on a cash or credit basis only, no more money orders. As Tony's eyes started to close, Gibbs said, "All right, everybody out. Let's let DiNozzo get some rest. He's going to need it."

The three left the room reluctantly. Tony looked up at Gibbs.

"Hey, Boss," he murmured.

Shaking his head, Gibbs chuckled, "You are a lot of trouble, DiNozzo."

Tony lowered his eyes. "Sorry, Boss."

"Ahhh," scoffed Gibbs, taking Tony's hand and patting it. "Life's never dull with you around."

Surprised, Tony looked up with a small smile.

Giving Tony's hand one final pat, Gibbs looked at him sternly and said, "I expect you back at work in two weeks, DiNozzo."

"You got it, Boss."

"Get some rest." Gibbs turned and rejoined the rest of his team in the corridor. "Okay," he said. "What are you doing standing around? Let's get back to work."

"Um, Gibbs," Abby said. "It's almost midnight."

Surprised, Gibbs looked at his watch. "It is? Okay, who's hungry?"

A chorus of "I am's" followed him down the hall and out of the hospital.

The End - Fin - That's all she wrote. Thanks for sticking with me and all your lovely comments.


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